The Meaning of His Tears
by PyroTheWereCat
Summary: He had given so much, it was only fair that he take it all back. The story of OFF told from the Batter's point of view. OFF (C) Mortis Ghost. T rating for now for language, violence, and references to suicide. May change to M later.
1. Failure

AUTHOR WARNING!

DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU HAVE NOT BEATEN THE GAME. I don't want to be responsible for you getting spoiled. If you HAVE beaten the game, enjoy.

It was too much.

It was all just too damn much. He couldn't function anymore. She was never there, even after he had sacrificed so much for her. She was always off doing who knows what with those "Guardians" she summoned. Leaving him there to take care of the disgusting vermin she called a child. He never asked for this. All he ever wanted was to live a peaceful life with her, make her happy. He gave up his freedom for her. He gave her his life, his very existence. And she repaid him with this.

He had tried to kill himself before. It pained him to no end to know that he could never actually go through with it. Every time he brought the blade to his skin, every time he raised the bottle of pills to his lips, every time he secured the rope around his neck...he just couldn't do it.

It started out as uncontrollable sobbing. Each time he tried to do it he couldn't stop crying long enough to cut into his flesh or swallow the pills or step off the chair. He would have to put it aside and curl up on the floor, hating himself more the longer he lay there choking on his own tears and mucous.

Then he grew angry. Each time he couldn't bring himself to do it he would curse and scream and throw objects around the room. All that accomplished was a mess he had to clean up so the brat wouldn't hurt himself.

It grew to a point where he knew she would leave him there with the kid forever and things would never return to the way he remembered. He sat in the corner of the room, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, his face sticky with the remnants of tears he had shed earlier.

"I can't do this anymore," he muttered, trying to ignore the coughing sounds from the kid's room, "I can't stay here with all this..." He struggled for an appropriate word for what the room was to him. His eyes searched the space he once thought of as heaven, a place he used to find asylum but now only found a cage. A red cage to imprison him while his _dear wife _was away. The word suddenly appeared in his mind like a beautiful white light breaking through the walls of the room.

"_Impurity_." He closed his eyes and thought long and hard about the impurity of the world his _dear wife_ had created. Her "Guardians" were nothing but corrupt bullies, pushing the Elsen around, growing content with their power. He remembered a time when they seemed kind, when they said they wanted to nurture the world his _dear wife_ envisioned. He knew he had to be the one to do something about it. He was the only one who had the power to do so.

"How?" he mumbled to himself, pressing his face into his knees, "How am I going to do this?"

"I can help you." His head snapped up to see who had spoken but he was no longer in the room. He sat instead in a black nothingness, alone.

"Who's there?" he called out, "What do you want?" The voice spoke again, seemingly from the inside of his head.

"It doesn't matter who I am. All that matters is that I can help you. You are lost, angry, frightened. You wish you could disappear, but not before the ones who caused your suffering suffer in return. I can tell you, young savior, there is but one way."

"Tell me!" he cried, "Please, tell me this way!"

"First, you must defeat the Guardians of each zone. They are impure and must be terminated to purify the world. The road to each of them is long and arduous. Do not lose sight of your goal, even if it seems too difficult to achieve."

"What then? What must I do to end it?"

"Deep in the place you once called home is a large switch. If you have reached this switch, you have earned the right to pull it."

"What does the switch do?"

"It shuts everything in this universe, everything you know to exist, off." He thought on this for a few moments. _That is what I wanted. It is more than what I could ask for._

"How will I get there? I am sure to be recognized."

"That is for you to decide. I can make you appear as anything or anyone." He considered this. He could choose a form for himself so that no one would recognize him as the Queen's husband. But what form? He thought back to his endless days in that room, caring for the sick little whelp. He remembered a comic book he had given to him to keep him quiet. What was it called again? Panic in somewhere...But the characters were the important things. He remembered two main characters: the hero was a boxer and the villain was a batter. A dry smile spread across his lips. _Of course..._

"I wish to become a batter," he told the voice.

"It shall be done." He looked down at his body. He was now dressed in similar attire as the villain from the comic, complete with a hat that hid his face if he kept his head lowered and a baseball bat with the name Harold written on the side. A twisted laugh bubbled up from inside his chest.

"I am the Batter," he said to no one in particular, "I must purify the world."

"To aid you in your quest, I have arranged a puppeteer for you," the voice informed the Batter.

"A puppeteer? Is that necessary?" It was not wholly uncommon in this world for someone to be led by what they called a puppeteer, a being outside of the known universe who could see and hear everything but could not speak to anyone. Their existence was usually only known to the being they were controlling the movements of. It was the existence of puppeteers that led to the peoples of the world to refer to their world as a "video game" and the puppeteers as "players".

"This being does not know your past," the voice assured him, "They do not know anything about this world or you."

"Good. I suppose a little extra help wouldn't be a bad thing."

"I would suggest you let out any lingering emotions now before you meet your puppeteer." The Batter thought on this a moment. Did he have any lingering emotions?

"That impure bitch," he hissed, proving that he did, "She'll pay for what she's done. Damn brat's not even mine, the filthy whore. Did she expect me to believe it was my kid? After I hadn't seen her in months? She'll suffer like I did." The Batter felt his eyes burn with fresh tears as he thought about how excited he had been to be a father...before he discovered that the child was not his own. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out, though he denied it until he saw the child's face. It held no semblance of him, nor did it seem to recognize him as its father. The Batter had felt so detached from the ugly little thing. Yet his _dear wife_ shoved all responsibility at him, insisting that since he was the "father", he had to keep it from dying while she was off living her life.

"Not mine not mine," the Batter spat, wiping the tears on his sleeve, "I'll kill him after I kill you. I'll shut the whole world off. I gave you everything. I have nothing...nothing left." He sat huddled in the nothingness, painfully aware of whatever the voice was with him, watching him cry like a pathetic child. He shook himself, calming down enough to rise to his feet. He sniffed and wiped his face once more.

"Okay," he said, "I'm ready."

A/N: This sucks, I know. I'll try to make it better for you.


	2. Zone 0

A/N: IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS, START WITH THIS CHAPTER.

...

The Batter found himself standing on a strip of bright yellow plastic leading to a large plastic building of the same color. All around him was a white ocean, sloshing heavily against the sides of the walkway. He sensed another consciousness with his own, a name that danced around the barriers of his mind, and knowledge that was not his. The puppeteer, the Player, had joined with him. The voice had told the Player what needed to be done. The Batter allowed himself to be guided by these instructions. This was Zone 0. He needed to find a being called the Judge. _This shouldn't be too hard_, he thought, _if Zone Zero is only this small block of land._ He walked along the path towards the building. Through one of the doors a small creature emerged and trotted towards him. It was a cat, he saw upon it drawing closer, but not an ordinary cat. Its face was twisted up at the sides, creating a horrible wide grin that never closed.

"There cannot be any other living beings in Zone Zero, so I must assume that you are only a mere figment of my imagination," the cat said. The Batter felt the Player's confusion and unease. "Nevertheless, I will introduce myself. I am the Judge, and I am aching to know your name, dear elusory interlocutor." The Player's confusion lessened. The Batter nodded to the Judge.

"I'm the Batter. I've been assigned to a sacred mission." The Judge sat on his haunches and tilted his head to one side.

"It is a pleasure. However, it is not the puppet I was addressing, but the puppeteer controlling it. What is your name, dear puppeteer?" The Batter could feel the Player's surprise at the Judge's notice of a puppeteer. The Batter himself was also mildly surprised but continued the conversation in the Player's stead, giving their name first.

"They can't talk to us," he explained, "However, they can see and hear everything." The Judge nodded and began washing his face with a seemingly too tiny paw.

"Even though you too are but an inexistent apparition in my eyes, let it be said that I am delighted to meet you as well," he said to the Player. The Batter wasted no time in awkward pauses.

"I believe we're in need of your services," he prompted. The Judge's yellow eyes flashed.

"Many people are in need of my services, you know. Everybody loves cats." He stood and stepped closer to the Batter. "We rub ourselves against their legs and purr in the most insistent manner." He demonstrated this on the Batter's shins, purring loudly. He then looked up at him, his grin starting to irritate the Batter. "They adore that," he mentioned, implying the Batter should be impressed. The Batter used his bat to nudge the cat away.

"I'm not talking about that kind of help," he grunted. The Judge seemed slightly put out but kept his distance.

"I see...But what sort of service could I offer to an ectoplasmic entity?" The Batter inclined his head, taking on an air of self-importance.

"I have a sacred mission to fulfill. I must purify the world." The Judge chuckled and dipped his head.

"There is no objective more laudable than yours. I accept to serve you as a guide through this area, if it is of any help to you."

"Thanks." The Judge turned and began to walk back to the building. The Batter followed, up a ladder to the second level. The Judge looked back at him, a thought occurring to him.

"Allow me to confess that I find you quite tangible for a phantasmagorical being," he said, "Might you in fact be a creature of flesh and blood?" The Player seemed to think that was a funny question. The Batter responded with dry sarcasm,

"I think so, yes." The Judge gave a small 'hm!' sound.

"So I have been mistaken from the beginning. You did not even interrupt me in my deluded phantasms..." He paused a moment. "This is relatively bizarre, I must say, for you are the first living being I was given a chance to encounter in this lieu. I had in fact concluded that Zone Zero was an empty land. Obviously I was misled. However, there exist other zones. And in those territories, the risk of hostile individuals attacking you in the most violent manner is quite high. Your sacred mission will likely lead you into these lands." The Player felt slightly uneasy at this last statement. The Batter silently reassured them that his combat skills were sufficient.

"I am aware," he told the Judge.

"This is good. I only hope you are as capable as you seem in purifying the world. Now, follow me and I will show you the way out of this place into the other zones." The strange cat climbed another ladder to the third level, the roof of the building. A staircase descended into the building from here. The Batter sheathed his bat in a sling on his back. _I'm not going to enjoy this_, he thought with a shake of his head as he stepped down into the building.

...

About an hour later the Batter emerged from the other end of the building, leaving the Judge in his floating box puzzle house with a large bowl of cat food. Ahead of him lay another plastic bridge to a new type of floating box. He approached it slowly, curiously. The boxes inside the building and on small islands around the main block had been a pale yellow, almost transparent. This one was solid and red. The Batter nearly gave a start as the Judge's voice appeared from behind him.

"Here is an accessory that is going to be especially helpful on your purifying quest, dear enlightened student and sportive friend," the grinning cat said, causing the Batter to turn around, "It is a cube, hovering in midair, as you have likely noticed. Nevertheless, you will be able to differentiate it from similar ones by the contrast of bad taste it imposes on your view of its clashing color, defying any sensible course of plastic arts. However do not judge it too quickly, because despite its criticisable appearance, this red cube is of undeniable use. Besides rendering you and the entirety of your health and competence, it is capable of sending you to the Nothingness." The word stung in the Batter's mind. _I've been there before..._he thought with a light shiver. The Judge continued in his story. "The Nothingness is a lieu of transition outside of space itself, where you can travel from one point to another at the speed of light. I now invite you to try it out, in order to discover locations more populous than this deserted land. Open your wings, my dear companion, and hurry away towards the following zones without hesitation!" The Batter nodded and walked towards the box, reaching out to it. Just before his hand touched the smooth plastic, the Judge gave one final piece of advice.

"Your only enemy is the fear that will grab you." The Batter paused, then pressed his hand to the box and entered the Nothingness.

_A/N: Gosh, this is terrible. I'm so sorry, guys. I have no excuse for this garbage._


End file.
